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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23624743">Brokenness Is a Form of Art</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SylviaNightshade/pseuds/SylviaNightshade'>SylviaNightshade</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Resolutions Are Hard to Come By [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stranger Things (TV 2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Feels, Bisexual Eleven | Jane Hopper, Coming Out, Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, Family Feels, Friendship, Gay Will Byers, Gay solidarity, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Canon, Sad Eleven | Jane Hopper, Self-Reflection, Will Byers Loves Mike Wheeler, Will Byers Needs a Hug, post-season 3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 17:55:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,464</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23624743</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SylviaNightshade/pseuds/SylviaNightshade</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm sorry."<br/>"It's okay. I get them, too." </p><p>OR </p><p>El &amp; Will bond over Max &amp; Mike being gone</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eleven | Jane Hopper/Maxine "Max" Mayfield, Will Byers &amp; Eleven | Jane Hopper, Will Byers/Mike Wheeler</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Resolutions Are Hard to Come By [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1597369</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>94</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Here is the second installment of my post-season 3 Elmax/Byler angst fest plus the best friendships that need more exploration in canon: Mike &amp; Max and El &amp; Will. Also El + the Byers as a fam. I adore this show and these characters and all they have to offer us. Sorry in advance that this one is a lot sadder than the last one. Also sorry that I take forever to upload :/</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For the third time in the past two weeks, El wakes up screaming.</p><p>Her breathing is ragged and the images are still flashing in her mind when Will comes running in, hair mussed and one pant leg rolled up. “Hey,” he says, sounding winded, like he’s just sprung from his bed. El feels the guilt creep into her gut.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” she whispers, eyes welling up.</p><p>“It’s okay.” Will shifts by the doorway. “Do you want me to stay?”</p><p>Tentatively, she nods, and he comes quietly over to sit across from her. Knees hanging over the side, he takes her hands and she sighs shakily. Closes her eyes and lets the tears trail down.</p><p>The first time it happened, Will had to physically pull her from the nightmare. When her eyes finally flew open, she saw the fear on his face and it scared her even more before he calmed her with, “It’s okay. I get them, too.”</p><p>He runs his thumbs over the backs of her hands. “I’m sorry,” El says again.</p><p>Will’s quiet. “I’m sorry, too.”</p><p>Jonathan is on the other side of the house. He’s not exactly a heavy sleeper, but he’s been working full-time for all four of them, so most nights he’s out like a light. El knows if he could hear her screaming, he would come running just as fast as his brother.</p><p>She knows that Joyce would, too. But Joyce started taking sleeping pills after they moved and now hardly anything wakes her up until they’ve run their course. El thinks her adoptive mother deserves some peace. She can’t say the same for herself.</p><p>“You should go back to sleep,” she tells Will.</p><p>He shakes his head. “I’m not leaving you like this.”</p><p>“You should.”</p><p>He looks at her then, sadness sunken in his eyes. “Well, I won’t.”</p><p>El hates that she’s responsible for waking him and forcing him back to these memories they both long to forget. She’s never asked anyone to care about her and she isn’t sure why they still do.</p><p>It troubles her, that in these moments, when her gratitude for Will is overwhelming her, all she can think about is Max, cold and sobbing in her arms at the Starcourt Mall. El can only hope that she was able to offer the same comfort to Max that Will gives her now.</p><p> </p><p>~&lt;:&gt;~</p><p> </p><p>The first few days after they got the news that Hopper was dead, El could barely remember how to breathe. Mike tried to be there for her, and so did Max, but the only person who really comforted her, the only one who felt that same loss as acutely as she did, was Joyce.</p><p>It was Joyce who found her, in the woods behind their old house, leaving Eggos in the lockbox. Her hand had barely left the plastic when she saw the movement in her peripherals and she stood abruptly, a rush of hope in her chest. When her eyes met Joyce’s, El deflated just as quickly. And the harsh reality that they had really lost him knocked the wind from her again.</p><p>“I thought…” she started. The tears built behind her eyes. The longer she held Joyce’s gaze, looking at the empathy reflected there, the harder it was to pull herself together. “I thought… maybe…”</p><p>Joyce crossed the few feet between them slowly and placed a gentle hand on El’s shoulder. “Oh, sweetie,” she said. They were both crying now, and Joyce brushed the hair back from El’s face, cupping her cheek. “I know.”</p><p>El remembers that when she hugged her, it was the first time the word <em>mother</em> had shifted its place from Terry to Joyce. And the love that she felt in that moment, that she has felt in every moment since, is not unwelcome so much as it is bittersweet. Because the joy at gaining one parent is always accompanied by the sadness of losing another.</p><p>But it still feels right, to be mothered by the woman who loved her father. When Joyce suggested the move, El was more scared to be separated from her than she was to leave her friends. There was no right choice. She just needed a parent so desperately. And she would still have Will.</p><p>Will, who she spent those fateful days searching for in the upside-down. Will, whose return marked her disappearance. Will, who took on the mind flayer in the same way she’d taken on the Demogorgon. Will, whose hurt runs just as deep as hers.</p><p>Before the move, El barely knew him. All she had to go on was what Mike told her, and for some reason, whenever she was with Mike, Will found an excuse to disappear. El was perceptive enough to notice the pattern, but she attributed it to Will disliking her. Now she knows that couldn’t be further from the truth. So she’s left unsure, but at least glad that, with Mike out of the picture, she can spend more time with the boy she is so curious to know.</p><p> </p><p>~&lt;:&gt;~</p><p> </p><p>It is harder to be her old, impassioned self with this new weight on her shoulders. Will helps her through it.</p><p>His role in the house is mainly one of support. He stays with El after nightmares, cooks Joyce her favorite food when she’s too tired to get out of bed, makes sure to check the mail every day so he can pass Nancy’s letters on to Jonathan. El admires these quiet ways Will is able to mend the brokenness they all feel.</p><p>She wishes he could heal his own brokenness, but she’s not certain he knows how. They’re alike in this way as well, El supposes. Always having someone else to care for them, they don’t quite know how to care for themselves.</p><p>It’s Jonathan who manages to make them both feel better. El suspects he’s had plenty of practice with Will. It’s amazing how similar the brothers are, Jonathan shedding the exhaustion he must feel on his only days off in order to entertain them, picking up any and all responsibility with such soft understanding.</p><p>“Family game night,” he announces, popping his head into El’s room.</p><p>Even though it’s only been two weeks since they moved in, they’ve developed somewhat of a routine. El raises her head, faltering slightly at Jonathan’s demeanor.</p><p>There’s always that hesitation in his eyes when he looks at her, like he’s expecting her to run. It’s not entirely different from the way he looks at Will. For a while, El has felt like an extra piece in the puzzle. In moments like these, she sees that maybe they’re all still trying to figure out what the picture is.</p><p>She nods, folds up the comic that she borrowed from Will, and swings her legs off the bed to follow him.</p><p>Tonight’s game is Mouse Trap. Particularly more fitting than when they play Scrabble, as El is still leagues behind the others in terms of vocabulary. They let her use brand names and Russian words, but she’s never been one to back down from a challenge, so she’s getting there.</p><p>Putting together a strange mix of objects to form a complex and successful trap is something they’re all quite familiar with. El watches the metal ball zig zag until it triggers the cage, and upon its landing around the mice, there is a distinct air of satisfaction in the room. Still, the sadness is buried right along with it.</p><p>Jonathan is clearly apprehensive in the sudden silence. After a moment, he turns to his brother. “Hey. It’s late, so, obviously not right now, but.” Will looks up at him. “I was thinking. What if we… played D&amp;D together?”</p><p>El sees Will tense, but Jonathan continues in his reassuring voice.</p><p>“I know, you said that you wouldn’t join another party.” Jonathan lifts one shoulder. “But, what if it was just us? I mean, we could all create our own characters and… you could DM. That way Will the Wise doesn’t have to go on adventures without the rest of his party.”</p><p>“That could be fun,” Joyce chimes in. “Right?”</p><p>Their intentions are pure, but El doesn’t miss the way Will’s jaw tightens before he says, “Yeah. I’ll think about it.” And she takes note of how quick he is to pack up the game and get out of there.</p><p> </p><p>~&lt;:&gt;~</p><p> </p><p>That night, it’s El who goes across the hall to Will’s room.</p><p>She lays staring up at the ceiling for close to an hour before she makes the decision. Her feet creak on the floorboards, just enough to alert Will to her presence before she pushes on the wood of his door.</p><p>To her surprise, he is not noticably awake and brooding. Rather, he’s in bed with the lights out. But he sits up immediately upon sensing her and moves to switch on his lamp. “El? What’s up? Is everything okay?”</p><p>Not sure how to respond, El makes her way over and climbs onto the other side of the mattress.</p><p>Will’s blinking at her, trying to mask his concern. “El—”</p><p>“I’m okay,” she tells him. Sighing, she pulls herself onto her knees and faces him. “Are you?”</p><p>Will feigns confidence when he replies, but his eyes give him away. “I’m fine. I swear.”</p><p>Even before she knew him, El would have been able to spot that lie. She pushes her brows together, shaking her head. “No, you’re not. You can talk about it.” She relaxes her posture so as to appear non-confrontational. “I’m here.”</p><p>The expediency with which Will accepts her stubbornness is a pleasant surprise. But he’s still deflecting. “Okay, I guess none of us are fine. But, it’s— it's what everyone is feeling. I miss Hawkins and all that. It’s nothing compared to what you’re going through,” he adds softly.</p><p>El fixes him with her piercing stare. “Will,” she says, placing a hand over his. “I’m here.”</p><p>He meets her gaze long enough that El can just see the pain hidden there before he looks down. She takes this to mean he needs a bit more time before he can respond.</p><p>When he finally speaks, his eyes are focused on the end of the bed. “I know that Jonathan means well,” he starts. “But I’m seriously not joining another party, and I’m certainly not creating a new one. I can’t— I can’t play the game without <em>them</em>, it doesn’t— <em>feel</em> right.” There’s a waver to his voice now. “I already have to start over, start high school with none of my old friends, and I guess reinvent myself, which is basically what he was suggesting, because the real me isn’t good enough. It never has been. And I’m used to that from other people, but lately I’ve been getting it from my friends, and now my family, I just—”</p><p>Will squeezes his eyes shut and El can see the tears start to leak out. Never quite adept at controlling her impulses, she leans forward to wipe them away, and Will lets her, gripping her other hand that’s still entwined with his on the comforter.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he manages.</p><p>“I’m sorry, too,” El echoes solemnly.</p><p>“No, it’s—” Will takes her hand and gently pulls it down. “I’m sorry that you— that we— can’t be with them anymore. Sometimes, I-I hate mom for making us leave, but then I realize how badly she wants to keep us safe.” He lets out a bitter laugh, his face nowhere close to happy. “Still, we tried to run away from the horror, and all it did was remind us of the good stuff we left behind.”</p><p>Pain flashes through El as she thinks of Mike and Max. Will has a fair point; this distance may be hurting them more than helping.</p><p>“But... we’ll see them again?” El asks, remembering a conversation she had with Joyce about Thanksgiving. “Right?”</p><p>Sensing her anxiousness, Will nods. “Yeah. We will.”</p><p>El studies him. “It’s not enough.”</p><p>Will sighs quietly. “No.”</p><p>They sit with their feelings in the dim light for a while. Will still hasn’t let go of her hand. El can’t shake the feeling that he’s hiding something from her. As far as she knows, she can read Joyce and Jonathan fairly well, and they don’t tend to carry secrets with them. At least not pertaining to her. Will, on the other hand, has walls up that El’s not certain she can pass through. And she trusts him, whole-heartedly, so she wants him to trust her, too.</p><p>She presses her lips together and looks at Will, sincere. “For now, we can be enough. For each other. Okay?”</p><p>Will looks back at her, eyes glittering. She watches a tiny piece of his guard break down, and feels a wave of emotion she can’t quite name. “Okay.”</p><p> </p><p>~&lt;:&gt;~</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ugh these two really need a hug. Also writing El's dialogue is so damn hard so I apologize if it doesn't feel authentic.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The incident with the ladder happens a week later.</p><p>For all of the drawbacks involved with moving, their new house does have a fairly nice backyard. El is content to visit and explore there, especially when she’s feeling too cooped up inside. Joyce doesn’t keep as close an eye on her as Hopper did, which El supposes is because Joyce trusts her, but it hurts to compare them, so she doesn’t.</p><p>This afternoon, there’s a kite painted with pink, blue, and purple designs, blowing its way through the air above her. El watches as it eventually lands in the gutter of their roof. From what she knows about kites, the owner of this one might come looking for it. Therefore, she surmises that getting it down to give it back to them would be the best course of action.</p><p>Of course, her first instinct is still to look down at her arm. She thinks about raising it, and she starts to, weakly, but she sighs. She can’t <em>feel</em> it anymore. Like her access to that energy has been completely blocked off.</p><p>So, she pushes the ladder over a few feet and climbs up to get the kite like a normal person. When she peers down into the gutter, she has to recoil a bit at the grunge littered there. One of the kite poles seems to be stuck in it. Pulling gently doesn’t work, so she pulls harder, but when it still doesn’t come out, El’s patience wears thin and she yanks it, hoping that she at least has some natural strength left.</p><p>It comes free immediately, and startles her backwards off the ladder.</p><p>Her ankle twists painfully when she slips and she’s expecting more pain upon impact, but her gasp is cut short, along with her motion, as she freezes in mid-air.</p><p>Hanging, completely weightless.</p><p>It’s like a crack in the dam; a little bit of that power sparks through her veins for one single, exhilarating moment that seems to last decades.</p><p>Then her focus breaks and she falls the last couple of feet to the ground, landing on her back and knocking the wind from her lungs.</p><p>In her daze, she vaguely registers commotion inside the house. They must have heard the clatter. The screen door opens and Jonathan is rushing out first, Will and Joyce following close behind.</p><p>“El, sweetie, are you okay?” Joyce calls.</p><p>Jonathan is already kneeling next to her. “What happened? Can you move?”</p><p>El nods, accepting the help as she rolls to a sitting position. When she tries to stand, her ankle protests and she doesn’t bite her tongue in time to keep from crying out. Without a word, Jonathan tucks his elbow under her knees and lifts her into his arms, carrying her past Will and Joyce into the house.</p><p>As he sets her down gently on the couch, El is still running through what happened over and over again, trying to make sense of it. It was so fast— as soon as she realized she was doing it, she fell— but it was long enough. Seconds. She reached out and— the energy <em>caught</em> her.</p><p>“Let’s see,” Joyce says, interrupting her thoughts. “Oh, shoot. It’s swelling. Will—”</p><p>“I’ll get the ice.” He’s already moved to the freezer.</p><p>Jonathan is hovering by the phone. “Should we take her to urgent care or something?”</p><p>“Maybe—”</p><p>“No!” El bites out immediately. “I can’t. No hospitals.”</p><p>“Right,” Joyce says, shaking her head. “Right, you’re right. Of course you can’t. I can’t believe I forgot—”</p><p>“Mom.” Will crouches down beside his mother and places the ice pack on El’s ankle. “It’s okay. She’ll be okay. It’s just a sprain.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Jonathan joins in. “Will and I’ve had our fair share of sprains. You know, rest, ice, elevation…”</p><p>“Oh, honey.” Joyce moves her hand carefully around the swollen skin. “Does it hurt too much?”</p><p>El shakes her head. “Not now. Just, when I walk, maybe.”</p><p>Despite the sincerity El knows she delivered, Joyce still looks concerned. “Well, I’ll get you something for the pain. Don’t you go anywhere.”</p><p>As Joyce hurries down the hall to the bathroom, El looks at Will. He shifts his hand on the ice. “I think she’s just happy to have a normal injury to deal with.”</p><p>
  <em>Well…</em>
</p><p>“What exactly happened?” Jonathan asks, stepping closer. “Did you fall off the ladder?”</p><p>“Yes…” El remembers the kite suddenly. “I was trying to get the kite.”</p><p>Will and Jonathan exchange a look. “I think I saw it,” Jonathan says. “I’ll go see if it’s still there.”</p><p>Once he leaves, El turns to Will, biting her lip. “I stopped myself from falling.” When Will frowns, she elaborates. “With my mind. I think it’s coming back to me.”</p><p>Will raises his eyebrows. “Your powers?”</p><p>El nods. The moment is kept between the two of them once Jonathan and Joyce come rushing back in— Jonathan empty-handed, Joyce with a bottle of pills. Will stays where he is through the commotion, flicking glances her way. For some reason, El finds this strangely pleasing. She gets another wave of that unnamed emotion.</p><p>Now she and Will have a secret.</p><p> </p><p>~&lt;:&gt;~</p><p> </p><p>She’s sitting on her bed with her ankle wrapped when Will comes in that night.</p><p>“Okay,” he says without prompting. “Tell me <em>exactly</em> what happened.”</p><p>El relays the tale.</p><p>When she’s finished, Will looks entirely serious. “Right,” he nods. “Well. This is good.” His expression shifts to apprehensive as he thinks about it. “Is this good?”</p><p>El shrugs hesitantly. “It… <em>felt</em> good.”</p><p>“So, not like someone else was controlling you?”</p><p>“No,” El says, firm. “No, it was me.”</p><p>It barely shows on his face, but she can sense Will’s relief. “Have you tried… anything else?” he asks.</p><p>El shakes her head. Will looks at her expectantly.</p><p>Right. They should test it out.</p><p>El searches the room, spotting the small clock on her nightstand. Before, she could just look at it and it would levitate, but now she has to concentrate so hard her head actually starts to hurt. She recognizes the pain as overworking her powers, which prompts her to focus even more, since she knows she’s accessing the right part of her brain. She even throws out her hand for good measure, and that’s when the clock gives a miniscule jolt and tips over.</p><p>The adrenaline floods her instantly and she huffs an excited laugh, looking over at Will. His eyes share that thrill, until he looks back at her, and his face goes white. “Jesus.”</p><p>El can taste the blood on her top lip as Will comes over with tissues for her. She tips her head back and presses them to her nose with expertise.</p><p>“Are you okay? Maybe you should take it slow.”</p><p>El knows she should, but her tiredness doesn’t preclude how elated she is. She actually <em>did</em> it. It feels so good, she could cry. Because this part of her that died with Hopper is back, even if it is small, and she doesn’t really have the vocabulary to express how much that overwhelms her.</p><p>“So,” Will says into the silence. “That worked.” He seems to sense her emotional state. “Do you… want to keep this between us for a while?”</p><p>El nods with a rush of gratitude.</p><p>“Okay. No problem.”</p><p>Will gives her a real smile, then. It fits so well on his face until El recalls that she hasn’t seen it in weeks, maybe months. She’s glad, for once, to see his eyes hopeful instead of sad.</p><p>“It feels good to have our supergirl back.”</p><p> </p><p>~&lt;:&gt;~</p><p> </p><p>El practices on her own whenever she can, lifting small objects, flicking things on and off. The more she does, the more she feels the power coming back to her. It’s not quite in her veins the way it was before, but she’s accessing it. She thinks it might even be helping her ankle heal faster.</p><p>Will keeps his word, covering for her, spotting her whenever necessary. And he does it without question. El knows him well enough now to realize that, though it is in his nature, he wouldn’t just do this for anyone. They really have become friends, she thinks. Good friends.</p><p>But there’s still that little something he’s intent on hiding from her.</p><p>It finally comes up one afternoon, when El is radioing Mike.</p><p>Her dependence on Mike has lessened ever since she befriended Max. She and Mike have been radioing each other quite frequently since the move, but El finds herself talking to Max more often. Or Will. Or just spending time with the Byers as a family.</p><p>She does miss Mike’s voice, though, and the gentle way he’s always taken care of her. Will could never replace him, despite how similar they are. El doesn’t think of Will the same way she thinks of Mike. But she’s starting to realize that maybe she doesn’t think of Mike the same way he thinks of her.</p><p>There isn’t time to dwell on it during this particular call, however, because El spots Will hovering in the doorway towards the tail end of it. As soon as he catches her eye, he blushes and flees. El frowns. “Mike? I have to go.”</p><p><em>“Oh. Okay,”</em> he replies. <em>“I’ll talk to you later. I love you.”</em></p><p>Though it’s the typical way they end their conversations, El gets a strange, uncomfortable stirring in her stomach. Definitely having to do with her most recent realization. “I love you, too.”</p><p>Will is in his room, so at least she doesn’t have to track him down. When he sees her, he shrinks into himself. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”</p><p>“It’s okay,” El says. “Did you need me?”</p><p>“No. Well, yeah. It’s not important.” Will’s face is still a bit red.</p><p>El decides to be direct. “Will, are you angry at Mike?”</p><p>That takes the flush right out of his face and he pales instead. “I— no, I’m— why would you—”</p><p>“You are best friends,” El says, confident in this fact. “But you avoid him when he’s around me. Why?”</p><p>She’s scared for a second that she’s actually broken Will, because he can’t seem to get even a sound out of his mouth, just opens and closes it repeatedly. When he does speak, it’s forced, sharp. “It’s not anything you need to worry about.”</p><p>“I am worried.”</p><p>“El…”</p><p>“Please. What’s wrong?”</p><p>“Look, you wouldn’t understand, alright?” Will snaps.</p><p>El flinches. It occurs to her that she’s never seen Will… angry. And he’s certainly never said anything that insensitive to her before. He doesn’t even make a move to correct himself, just turns away from her with his shoulders all tense.</p><p>She’s even more worried now. But she leaves it alone.</p><p> </p><p>~&lt;:&gt;~</p><p> </p><p>In the following few days, El contemplates asking Joyce or Jonathan what could be wrong; after all, they have years of experience with Will’s various habits and insecurities. But something tells her they wouldn’t understand either. The problem seems to lie with her and Mike.</p><p>Given her unsettling new disposition towards Mike, El really doesn’t want to talk to him. She does the next best thing and calls Max.</p><p><em>“Hmm,”</em> is the redhead’s first response.</p><p>“Do you know something?”</p><p>Max sighs on the other end. <em>“I have a theory. But it’s really not my place to say. You should give Will space for now, and if he wants to tell you, he will.”</em></p><p>El chews on her lip. “What if I asked Mike?”</p><p>
  <em>“I’m not sure that’s the best plan either.”</em>
</p><p>So, she’s back to square one. El hates not knowing what to do.</p><p>
  <em>“Hey, forget about those two. Boys are dumb, anyway.”</em>
</p><p>El smiles at that. “I know.”</p><p><em>“I’m so glad I don’t have to put up with Lucas’s shit anymore. Gives me more time to read about female superheroes. And talk to you, of course.”</em> El feels a pleasant warmth pool in her stomach, almost a fluttering. <em>“I seriously have so much stuff to show you when you get back here. Not that I’ve been missing you or anything, but it wouldn’t suck if you were closer…”</em></p><p>The warmth only grows as El listens to Max ramble on. It’s very endearing (new word that she’s learned that applies very much to Max and Mike). Even though El misses both of them, Max’s voice provides a different comfort than Mike’s. And that disturbance in her gut she gets when she talks to Mike is kind of polar opposite from the one she gets when she talks to Max.</p><p>Her confusion increases when Max ends the call with a casual, <em>“Love you,”</em> and she’s so distracted by the way her heart sort of quickens that she doesn’t have time to respond.</p><p> </p><p>~&lt;:&gt;~</p><p> </p><p>She waits a few more days before confronting Will again.</p><p>All of the information she’s gathered has revealed more about what’s going on with her than what’s going on with him. Which still isn’t much, considering her stagnant level of confusion. But it might do some good to talk about it. That way, El can open up to Will first. It’s what she would want, if she were in his position.</p><p>His door isn’t quite closed; she knocks before pushing it open. Like before, he’s sitting on his bed. This time, he’s not under the covers, but he doesn’t look any less tired than El would expect at midnight. “Hey,” he says, posture attentive, already anticipating that something is wrong. A wave of affection passes through El at that.</p><p>“I thought you should know,” she says, clasping her hands somewhat awkwardly. “I stopped radioing Mike. You don’t have to be uncomfortable anymore.”</p><p>“<em>What</em>?” Will sighs. “No, El, that’s not—” He pushes a hand through his hair. “I don’t want you to stop talking to Mike. At all.”</p><p>El quirks her head to the side, studying him. “Are you sure?”</p><p>“Yes, I’m sure.” He sounds completely exasperated and defeated at the same time. “Shit, I just—”</p><p>There’s definitely more he wants to say, but he slides off the edge of the bed and onto the floor instead of saying it, arms flopping out over his knees. El takes pity on him and moves to sit down, too.</p><p>“You don’t have to tell me,” she says. “I don’t want you to be upset. But I still need space from Mike. I just thought you might be... happy.”</p><p>Will raises his head, frowning. “Wait, you need space from Mike? Why?”</p><p>El bites her lip. “I don’t think we want the same things. And…” Her face heats up all over again. “I’m confused.”</p><p>Will looks her over carefully. His demeanor has shifted from defensive to curious, which El counts as a success. “What are you confused about?”</p><p>“Max,” El says quietly.</p><p>Will’s eyebrows shoot up. “Max?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” El confesses. “I get a weird feeling now, when I talk to her.”</p><p>She’s grateful for Will’s gentle, judgement-free perspective. “Bad weird or good weird?”</p><p>“Good weird, I think.” There’s that fluttering in her stomach; she shakes it off. “The… bad weird is when I talk to Mike.” El can sense Will scrutinizing her and she looks guiltily up at him. “I don’t understand.”</p><p>Will takes a while to respond. When he does, there’s a crease between his eyebrows and he’s sort of staring at a point past her shoulder, gaze clouded. “I guess… you don’t have to understand. If you need to take a break and figure it out, I’m sure <em>Mike</em> would understand.”</p><p>“Really?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Will assures her. “He’s good like that. He listens. I mean, he’s kind of an anxiety-ridden mess, actually, but he means well. And I know he cares about you. A lot.”</p><p>El presses her lips together at the unwelcome stirring in her stomach. “He loves me.”</p><p>If she weren’t so caught up in her own contemplation, she might notice the way Will’s jaw tightens and his shoulders prick up. But she can still hear the sadness in his voice when he says, “Yeah.”</p><p>His obvious distress brings El back to the problem at hand, and she sighs softly, brows furrowed at the carpet just in front of her. It would be so much easier to have this conversation if she knew what the <em>hell</em> (curse words are her new favorites) she was talking about.</p><p>The carpet is the only thing that responds to her thoughts, shifting as a few strands rise into the air. El twirls them idly above her palm. “I’m not sure I…” She pauses, uncertain how to finish the sentence. “I don’t know. Anymore.”</p><p>Will watches her small telekinetic display and it seems to calm both of them, if only a little. El lets the threads feather-fall back to the floor and waits for Will to say something.</p><p>“Um,” he starts. “I… don’t know what to tell you. I’ve been where you are, I think. It’s probably not the same…” He trails off, offering her a sympathetic grimace. “It sucks, though. Not to know.”</p><p>There’s another hint at whatever he’s hiding, but he still won’t say it.</p><p>“It’s good that you have Max,” he continues. “To talk to, and… to make you feel good-weird.”</p><p>Insecurity creeps in at his words, and El is compelled to ask. “I have you, too. Right?”</p><p>Will’s eyes are naturally expressive with how big they are; El is still learning how to read them. Now, though, she recognizes the emotion that fills them; the one she feels so often but can’t name. It’s close to love, she thinks. But not how Mike looks at her. And not quite how Hopper or Joyce would look at her. Maybe…</p><p>Like Jonathan looks at her. Like she’s family.</p><p>The word <em>brother</em> clicks in her mind.</p><p>“Yeah,” Will says, warm and sincere. “Yeah, you have me.”</p><p> </p><p>~&lt;:&gt;~</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The Byers Twins. It's what we deserve.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>*content warning: one use of the f-slur and mentions of past abuse*</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>El is uncertain how she feels about high school.</p><p>She doubts she’s having the typical experience, considering she’s never once set foot in a public learning sphere like this and now there are people everywhere.</p><p>Granted, she’s enrolled in minimal classes for students with learning disabilities, thus limiting her interactions with the rest of the student body. The only time she gets to see Will is during lunch, and even that is only thirty minutes. El’s grateful all the same. Without that connection, she’s sure she would be drowning.</p><p>There was a lengthy debate during the move about whether or not El would get to do this. The main concern was that she might stand out, but they also took into consideration what effect leaving her at home all the time would have on her psyche.</p><p>In the end, they got the paperwork from Murray explaining that El was their foster child, recently adopted, entirely homeschooled, and she would need some help from the special educators to adjust. Putting aside technicalities, it isn’t really much of a lie, and the legal authorities had no trouble believing it.</p><p>Neither do her peers, El notices, who are quick to dismiss her once she’s fit the label. There are plenty of outcasts in the halls, not just among her class. People that the majority seem to either taunt or disregard, depending on the magnitude of their perceived offense (she really has been studying up on her vocabulary). El, with her quiet, peculiar nature and lack of understanding at times, is undoubtedly considered one of them.</p><p>She discovers, much to her dismay, that Will is, too.</p><p>It’s about three weeks in. Nothing special has happened yet. There have been no incidents, and El has managed to keep her powers under control. She’s even made a few friends— the ones who don’t care that she asks so many questions. Really, no one has openly bothered her.</p><p>However, today, as they wait on the curb outside of school to board the bus, El sees a group of students staring in her direction, giggling.</p><p>She frowns and follows their gaze to where Will is standing beside her, oblivious. It only takes a few seconds for her to spot the torn piece of notebook paper taped to the side of his backpack. With her still-sparse knowledge of slang, El can’t determine what word is written there. But she picks up from the rather cruel stares that it’s meant to be insulting.</p><p>Discreetly, El flicks an especially harsh gust of wind at the onlookers and then palms the note off of Will’s bag as they climb the bus steps.</p><p>The house is empty, as usual. Once they remove their shoes and deposit their school materials in their respective rooms, they meet in the hallway. Before Will can head for the kitchen, El takes the opportunity to unfold the piece of paper and press it gently into his hand. “This was on your bag.”</p><p>As soon as Will’s eyes graze the word, they flicker from surprise to fear to sadness to indifference in less than a second. He crumples the note and turns away.</p><p>“What is it?”</p><p>“Don’t worry about it.”</p><p>El can see the deflection in his posture and she can hear it in his voice. But her anger that someone would seek to scare Will like this distracts her from being sensitive. “I worry. Who put it there?”</p><p>“I don’t know.”</p><p>El sets her jaw. “If they hurt you, I hurt them.”</p><p>Will has his back to her, so she can’t gauge his emotions from his face; the tension still radiates off him. “I appreciate it,” he says quietly. “But it’s not something you can fix.”</p><p>His voice is layered with a confusing mix of sorrow, shame, and defeat. El’s heart pushes painfully against her ribs at the familiar tone. Tentatively, she reaches for him. “Will. What does it mean?”</p><p>It takes a few beats of El staring, clinging to him, before he sighs and turns slowly back around. “It's…”</p><p>He still can’t quite get the words out. After another, shorter pause, he drops his head, takes El’s hand off his arm, and pulls them into her room this time instead of his.</p><p>They settle down on the carpet across from one another, Will’s back to the wall and El’s to her bed. It seems Will might be preparing to reciprocate the trust El has placed in him. She can’t deny she’s curious to know his secret.</p><p>There’s even more silence as Will works up the courage to speak. When he does, he shifts forward and folds his elbows onto his crossed legs. “Do you remember when you asked me if I was mad at Mike?”</p><p>El nods, anticipating his next words even more.</p><p>Will lowers his gaze to the floor. “Before the move… we did have a fight.”</p><p>El is more than a little surprised that Mike didn’t mention this, but she lets Will continue.</p><p>“Normally, we make up pretty fast. This time was different. We sort of moved past it, but… I know what we said is still hanging between us. And I have no idea how to fix it, because I can’t talk to him about… <em>that</em>, without—”</p><p>Will sighs and presses his hands to his temples. “Fuck, I’m not making any sense, am I?”</p><p>El offers him a shrug in response. It’s true; she doesn’t quite know where he’s going with this.</p><p>“Okay,” Will says. He breathes out. “Okay. There’s something you have to understand. You know the way that, biologically, everyone has a mother and a father?”</p><p>El is absolutely lost now, but she nods along.</p><p>“And you know that, usually, people… get together and have kids because they’re in love?”</p><p>She nods again.</p><p>“So you understand what couples are. Like… like you and Mike. Or, like you were.”</p><p>The subject is clearly awkward for both of them, but El still gives her nod.</p><p>“Have you ever seen a couple that isn’t… a boy and a girl?”</p><p>El frowns, thinks back, and shakes her head. All the social cues she’s been able to register since leaving the lab, and especially since starting school, have placed emphasis on the divide between genders, the attraction between boys and girls. She hasn’t really considered that type of affection between… she supposes, two girls or two boys.</p><p>“Yeah,” Will murmurs. “That’s because society really, <em>really</em> hates people who are like that. Boys who like boys and girls who like girls,” he clarifies. “Or… boys who fall in love with boys and… well, you get it.”</p><p>She doesn’t get it. She thinks she understands what it is that he’s describing, and he’s made it clear that those people are part of the outcasts. But, like every other feature of the outcasts in their school, she doesn’t understand why people hate it.</p><p>“So, the word that someone stuck on my backpack.” Will’s measured voice interrupts her thoughts. “<em>Faggot</em>. It means gay. Which means… a boy who likes boys. But it’s… really not something people go around calling their friends. At least not with any respect.”</p><p>El’s fists curl. “Someone used it to hurt you.”</p><p>Will nods unsteadily. “Yeah.”</p><p>Her mind flashes back to Will’s face when he first read the note. “They wanted to scare you. It… scared you.” She searches his eyes. “Why?”</p><p>Will lets out a dry laugh. “Are you really gonna make me say it? Because, I <em>am</em> like that. I’m— I’m gay. And everyone can tell, and it’s not just something people use to make me ashamed of myself. They’ll <em>hurt</em> me for it. As in, beat me up. My own <em>dad</em> used to—”</p><p>He snaps his mouth closed.</p><p>El has taken on wave after wave of pain with every admission. And now Will’s eyes leak with tears and he buries his face in his knees and El feels just as helpless as she did trying to comfort Max after Billy’s death.</p><p>Will’s heavy, shaky breaths fill the small room. El’s instinct is to crawl across the carpet and hold him. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. It’s all she can say.</p><p>In the time it takes for Will to cry it all out, El seethes at how awful the world has a tendency of being towards him. Everything else that he’s been through, and now this. They’ve gotten rid of the upside-down monsters, but there are more lurking in their own dimension. And they’ll never get a break from fighting them off. Will hasn’t, in all these years living with such a loving family.</p><p>El’s anger grows as she considers what Will implied about his absent father. <em>Just like Papa</em>. Abusive, disgusting, cruel. That must be why Joyce kicked him out. And El thought being a test subject her entire childhood was the worst it could get. The torture just never seems to stop.</p><p>Will’s tears subside after too short a time; El can tell that he’s trying to force them away. When he raises his head, he won’t meet her eyes. El turns his chin toward her, as gently as she can.</p><p>“I know I don’t... understand everything,” she says seriously. “But I know you don’t deserve to be hurt. You don’t deserve to <em>feel</em> hurt. <em>They</em> are the ones being cruel.” She swallows back her own tears. “I don’t want to… to fix you. I want to protect you.”</p><p>Will’s eyes shine into hers for a long moment. Then, slowly, he puts his arms around her, like he can’t believe she’s real. El understands the sentiment. She hugs him back with her eyes shut to stop herself from crying. It doesn’t really work. So, they stay there for a while.</p><p>Eventually, Will loosens his grip, drawing away from her. “This is… new for me,” he says as he swipes at his cheeks. “I’ve never talked to anyone about this before.”</p><p>El doesn’t say anything, just gives him a small smile and squeezes his hand.</p><p>“God, this is shit,” Will mutters. “It’s all messed up.”</p><p>El thinks back to the beginning of the conversation and gets a sinking feeling. “Is this what you and Mike fought about?”</p><p>Will’s quiet for long enough that she knows the answer before he says it. “Not exactly. But, yeah.”</p><p>El waits for him to continue, not wanting to assume the worst just yet.</p><p>“We’d never really mentioned it before. To each other, anyway. He was there with me every time I got bullied for it, but we didn’t talk about it afterwards. He just defended me. And then we’d… go get ice cream or bike through Mirkwood or meet up with Lucas and Dustin to play D&amp;D.” His eyes shift, devastated. “When we fought, it was the first time he’d ever spit it at me with such… disgust.” The pain is still fresh in his voice.</p><p>It doesn’t make sense to El, from what she knows about Mike, that he would hurt Will like that. That he’d even <em>think</em> like that. He never considered El a freak, even back when she barely spoke. Why would he think that of his best friend?</p><p>She opens her mouth to say as much, but the front door clicks open, disrupting the moment. “Hello?” It’s Joyce.</p><p>Will wipes his face and stands. El copies him, hesitant.</p><p>“Hey, mom!” Will calls back. When he turns to El, she can see him trying to sew all the emotion back up inside. “Hey, um. Can we just… drop this, for now?”</p><p>“Okay,” El says softly.</p><p>Will shoots her one last, grateful look. “Thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>~&lt;:&gt;~</p><p> </p><p>El does drop it.</p><p>Or, at least, she doesn’t talk with Will about it. Instead, she lets it all stew in her head every night while she’s supposed to be sleeping.</p><p>Her thoughts before never included the possibility of attraction between two people of the same gender. Now that they do, it’s hard to shake the conclusion that she might be feeling that attraction towards Max.</p><p>It’s similar to the way she feels about Mike. Except, with Max, it’s… new. Exciting. Terrifying, like the floor is dropping out from under her feet every time she pictures seeing the redhead again. Being with Mike was never scary. It was awkward at times, but it was familiar, comforting, warm.</p><p>El doesn’t know what to do. She hasn’t radioed either of them in so long that now she’s too intimidated to just pick up the walkie and call. And the only person she can consult with is avoiding tough conversations like this.</p><p>But they have to talk again, at some point. Because El is pretty sure she’s figured out why it is that Will doesn’t like seeing her with Mike. A selfish part of her wants to be right, so she can give Will her blessing and pursue Max instead. If Max even… wants her like that.</p><p>El sighs into the darkness.</p><p>When she falls asleep, she dreams that an angel with glowing red hair flies down and saves Hopper from the explosion at the rift. Her wings fold around him in a forcefield of feathers that sear in the heat, and when it dies down, the angel is standing there without them, human in the tattered remains. But they’re alive. They’re both alive.</p><p>El wakes up crying. And this time, it’s not loud enough for Will to hear.</p><p> </p><p>~&lt;:&gt;~</p><p> </p><p>It feels like she’s moving in a haze for a while. Like her body is stuck on auto-pilot and she’s floating around it.</p><p>She uses her powers to try and cope, but they have the unfortunate side-effect of sending her deeper into her own mind. So, she spends a lot of time on the ethereal plane, in the darkness. When she comes back, she’s usually hovering above wherever she was laying, back arched and blood rushing to her limbs.</p><p>Since the energy has returned to her, it’s been growing at an alarming rate. It’s not quite the same as it was before. It’s more… supernatural. El’s been reading Will’s X-Men comics for long enough now that she understands the boys’ comparison between her and Jean Gray. This new energy in her veins is scarily similar to the mutant’s power. And El sincerely hopes it won’t spiral out of control the way Jean’s did.</p><p>El never seems to have control over anything. Her powers used to be her way of grounding herself, but now even that has been tampered with.</p><p>The only solution she can see is finding something new to anchor her.</p><p> </p><p>~&lt;:&gt;~</p><p> </p><p>“Can we talk yet?”</p><p>Will doesn’t seem all that surprised to see El at his door in the middle of the night. El wouldn’t be either, given their history with these circumstances. Except that it has been weeks since they last did this. Since Will told her to drop it. El is grateful that the distance gave her time to process. But she misses him now, and frankly, she thinks she’s waited long enough.</p><p>Apparently, Will feels similarly. That, or he’s decided not to fight her on this. Either way, he takes a seat on the floor and motions for her to join him.</p><p>Once she does, she tucks her hair behind her ear and speaks to the carpet. “I think I… understand now.” She pauses for a moment before flicking her eyes up to his. “Are you in love with Mike?”</p><p>Will can only hold her gaze for so long, clearly torn on whether or not to answer; he clenches his jaw and looks away. “It doesn’t matter.”</p><p>El senses she’s started off on the wrong foot. Being direct isn’t always in her best interest. “I’m sorry,” she says. “That was... prying.” She stares at him. “But you like him like that. Right?”</p><p>After what feels like a decade, Will gives a miniscule nod.</p><p>A mix of emotions floods through El at the confirmation. Relief, that she was right. Pride, that they’ve reached this level of trust. Jealousy, even though she’s pretty sure she’s going to break up with Mike. Joy, at imagining him with Will. Regret, that Will has pushed these feelings away for who knows how long.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” she tells him. “When I was with Mike… that’s why you…”</p><p>“El,” Will says gently. “I’m not mad at Mike for loving you.”</p><p>His eyes are completely unreadable. They have been since the conversation started. El feels a twinge of worry. “But you were in pain.” She reaches for him. “You <em>are</em> in pain.”</p><p>“It really doesn’t matter,” Will repeats, almost pleading. “I know that he doesn’t think of me like that and the last thing I’m going to do now is let any… feelings I may or may not have… ruin our friendship. Or your relationship.” He casts his gaze at the floor. “I already fucked it up in July.”</p><p>El hesitantly adjusts her grip on his arm and starts rubbing her thumb up and down against the fabric of his sleeve, the way she’s seen and felt Joyce do so many times. “Will.”</p><p>The motion has the same effect when El does it, because Will looks up at her and he’s finally dropped his defenses. She can see the resigned hopelessness in his eyes.</p><p>“You are very important to Mike.” She’s witnessed it, after all. Will was the reason Mike took her in. She has always felt that Mike’s affection for her was interchangeable with his affection for Will. Until now, she didn’t understand why that was. “He would do anything for you.”</p><p>Will doesn’t believe her; it’s evident from his forced laugh. “I think you’re confusing me with you.”</p><p>“No. He loves us both.”</p><p>“El.” Will shakes his head. “It’s not the same.”</p><p>“Why not?”</p><p>“Be<em>cause</em>!” Will splays his hands. “Mike is not about to make out with me for hours on end!”</p><p>El notes the flush in his face after he says it. “Are you sure?”</p><p>Will looks away. “Yeah. I’m pretty damn sure.”</p><p>El isn’t.</p><p>Will sighs. “Look, can we talk about something else? Anything else? Please?”</p><p>He’s not going to believe her no matter what she says, El realizes. He’s had this stilted image of his relationship with Mike in his head for years, and he’s afraid. That if he even so much as hopes to change it, Mike will exploit his vulnerability and reject him.</p><p><em>Because he did</em>. El recalls, with a pit in her stomach, the fight Will told her about. But Will’s perception is all wrong; El knows it is.</p><p>She has to right it. She has to talk to Mike.</p><p>But she says none of this to Will. She’s already made him uncomfortable enough. Now, she supposes, it’s her turn.</p><p>The mere thought of Max gives her butterflies. El has come to know this feeling quite well from her long hours contemplating in the ethereal plane— and possibly using that time to observe Max, reading or laughing or just… sitting, looking like she does. El has restricted this activity, however, because it’s embarrassing and she doesn’t want to be creepy. She just wants…</p><p>She lets out a breath and opens her eyes. “I think I like Max.”</p><p>Will stares at her with his mouth partially open.</p><p>“I think I’m… attracted to her,” El elaborates. “Like that.”</p><p>The array of expressions that cross Will’s face at her confession is, in contrast to their topic of discussion, pretty funny. El pushes her eyebrows together in amusement as she watches him.</p><p>“Oh,” he says finally. “Well. That explains a lot.” He shakes his head. “I mean… are you… really?”</p><p>El shrugs slowly with a sheepish smile. “Yes?”</p><p>Will nods at the floor, taking it in. “Cool. That’s… yeah.” He looks up at her. “Sorry. I wasn’t expecting that.”</p><p>El just tucks her lips together and lets him process.</p><p>“Are you… gonna tell her?”</p><p>El nods. “I thought, when we go back…” She hesitates. “I would try.”</p><p>Will’s face contorts into something wrought with insecurity. “I wish I were as brave as you.”</p><p>The words take a moment to sink in. And then El moves to sit by Will’s side, resting her head on his shoulder. Listens to his heartbeat for a while before she tells him, “You are.”</p><p>And she can only hope that he believes her.</p><p> </p><p>~&lt;:&gt;~</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ahhhhhh. Yes, sorry, it's over. But I promise there will be a resolution in the next fic and all the gay dreams will come true. It's just that like. Friendship. And family. Are also important. Thanks to everyone for reading  &lt;3&lt;3&lt;3 I love all of you for sticking it out through this pack of bullshit.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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